


Spinning

by Stratagem



Series: Everyday Spinning [1]
Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stratagem/pseuds/Stratagem
Summary: Alec had understood Manticore. He had it figured out. But out here? He was living one day at time. He tried to learn the rules, but then he found out there were no rules. You did whatever you could to survive, and that’s what he was doing. Surviving.





	Spinning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel.
> 
> Set immediately after "Proof of Purchase." The first part of my new Everyday Spinning Timeline, which will basically be a bunch of individual short and long stories involving Alec and eventually Jondy, one of Max's 09er sisters.

Alec brushed his fingers across the back of his neck. There was a tiny crust of blood back there, like a scab, and it flaked away at his touch. It wasn't very chilly for an autumn night, but Alec still felt cold.

Why had Max done that? Why did she pay that kind of money to save him when it would've been easier to just let him die, eliminating one problem while solving another?

Maybe she just didn't want his neck to explode in the apartment and ruin her outfit with little flying pieces of 494 brain stem. But with her rich, invalid boytoy, she could've had ten identical outfits and still have been make out with Wheels in a couple days, so that excuse didn't make sense.

Maybe she wanted to hold it over him, make him pay her back later for saving his, huh, how would she think of it…oh yeah, his worthless, pathetic, despicable, greedy, nasty, opportunistic little existence. Yep, that's probably what Max thought of him right now. It was possible that Max would want to turn him into her forever-indebted slave, holding the life-debt over his head to be used at the most opportune moment, but it didn't sound like Max. Her whole deal seemed to be save-the-world, make-life-better, equality-for-all, we-can-make-our-own-Utopia. Maybe instead of following Manticore's brainwashing, she had just latched onto Eyes Only's? Possible motive.

Maybe she just wanted to play with his mind. Make him think she had let him go free then kill him later, slowly, wickedly, so she could enjoy doing the deed herself. If that was her plan, she'd find out that he was harder to kill than she could imagine. But, again, Max didn't seem to be made that way. She had just given up all that money with barely a second thought about it, besides being excusably pissed.

For all of his well-cultivated deductive reasoning, counter-attack training and lessons in strategy, he couldn't figure it out.

What Max had done didn't make any sense, not tactically, and especially not after all the crap that had gone down between them since they had met.

Hell, she had been his mission at first: make sure 452 gets back to Eyes Only and infects him with the retrovirus. Alec was supposed to take them back to Manticore so Renfro could rip Eyes Only's mind apart for information, and 452 could go back into reindoctrination because, you know, it really didn't work the first time around, hence the need to escape, destroy Manticore and ruin his life. She was really something Manticore didn't want running around. His mission was supposed to be _easy_. But that had gotten screwed up because Max would never come back quietly, no way, she had to do things the hard way, like go out in a fiery fury of snarky comments, too-tight clothes and explosions.

She blew up Manticore. Yep, he was going to blame her for that one. She blamed him for a thousand and one things, some of which he deserved, so he was going to blame her for torching Manticore.

As much as it was a hellhole, as much as he had hated it and hated what it did to him and the others, it had been his home. In Manticore, he got three square meals a day and a roof over his head, which was more than he could say for living out here. Out here, he picked pockets, stole from vendors, snatched wallets and bags and used or sold the contents. He had to eat, and he couldn't get a job: no one could. There were no jobs here, and even if there were, he didn't think he could get one when people with legitimate graduate degrees were living on the street, burning their diplomas in trash barrels for heat. So he was stealing until he found something better to do.

As for where he was crashing at night, well, that changed every day. He didn't like staying in one place for long, so he switched buildings every night and sectors every couple of days. Good thing he didn't need a lot of sleep; he tended to only crash for a few hours before getting up and moving on.

Alec had belonged in Manticore; he had basically ruled that place, in his own underground contraband-exchange, stubbornly subversive but go-with-the-flow way. He knew the staff, the guards, the medics, the scientists; he knew how it worked in there, what he could get away with, what he couldn't. He could get away with a lot.

He had friends there, people he had fought beside in Kuwait, South America, Japan, the grand ballrooms of Europe and the seedy streets of New York. They were X5s, but they were people, his battle buddies, and now he didn't know who was dead and who was alive. He hadn't found any of his unit members so far, and he was worried about it, not that he had anyone to tell. He had no one out here, and he couldn't trust anyone but himself, at least until he found someone from his unit, so he was treating it like a solo mission.

Objective: Stay Alive.

He had understood Manticore. He could play things in there, but out here? He was living one day at time. He tried to learn the rules, but then he found out there were no rules. There was nothing to grasp onto, no code, no laws, nothing. On the Outside, you did whatever you could to survive, and that's what Alec was doing.

He had relied on what Manticore had given him: his charisma, his cunning and his strength. He was starting to make friends with the other underground people, the fringe of society, which seemed to be the only kind of people in Seattle so that made it easier. He knew better than to get involved with any gangs besides being a go-to guy; gangs were dangerous with their group mentality, and Alec liked being solitary, able to make his own decisions. There were a couple small-time drug deals he was in on besides his boxing deal, which now it was impossible to go back to that since White knew about it. The money he had won from his last fight was supposed to get him out of Seattle, maybe Europe where he knew there would be some sort of life for him, maybe as a mercenary, maybe something more. That wasn't an option anymore, at least for now, but Alec would make do. He always did. What he had done today made it clear that the cost of his survival didn't matter to him.

But then again, Max and the big furry Nomalie were still alive. And he didn't kill that X6 kid.

That meant something, didn't it?

Alec stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked down the sidewalk, playing off an air of careful nonchalance. He was going to make it out here in this nutcase world that didn't make sense. He was going to survive.

But maybe not at all costs.


End file.
